


fever when you hold me tight

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, a small happy thing basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 12:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11691657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: “Okay, what’s wrong?” Matt asks, indulgently, unnecessarily dry considering that Foggy’s spent the entire time they’ve been awake making sad, congested noises and is clearly in need of support.“Cold,” he says, sighing. “Possibly flu. Not ruling out plague.”





	fever when you hold me tight

**Author's Note:**

> super short but happy thing that I wrote for a prompt on tumblr <3

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Matt asks, indulgently, unnecessarily dry considering that Foggy’s spent the entire time they’ve been awake making sad, congested noises and is clearly in need of support.

“Cold,” he says, sighing. “Possibly flu. Not ruling out plague.”

“Do you have a fever?”

“I don’t know.” Foggy places a hand on his own forehead. “How do I tell?”

“Uhm—can I?” Matt asks, coming closer, looking hesitant.

“Go for it,” Foggy says, taking the hand that Matt’s holding out to guide it to his forehead. Matt rests his palm there for a moment, making a soft  _hmm_  noise before he lifts it, brushing his fingers lightly through Foggy’s hair in the process.

“You’re kind of warm,” he says. “If it gets worse, you should go to the clinic.”

“Ugh, the clinic,” Foggy moans, turning to bury his face in his pillow. “I refuse.”

“Why?” Matt asks, laughing, hovering for a moment before he sits gingerly on the edge of Foggy’s bed. Foggy turns back to see him looking amused and handsome and very  _healthy_.  

“It’s full of sick people,” he says.

“ _You’re_  a sick person,” Matt says, grinning at him.

“Sem _antics_ —just leave me here to die, Murdock,” Foggy says, reaching out to push his shoulder gently. “Go to class, think of me fondly.”

“I always do,” Matt says, reaching out to ruffle his hair again, sounding suspiciously earnest this time. Foggy watches him while he gathers his things to leave, smiling when Matt turns around with his hand on the door knob to say, “Try not to die, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” he replies, solemnly.  

*

Foggy spends the next several hours in and out of sleep, the out of sleep parts spent wheezing miserably and attempting to study despite said miserable wheezing. He’s asleep when Matt comes back, but he’s woken up by Matt’s frankly adorable attempt to move quietly despite holding several plastic shopping bags.

“Little retail therapy?” he asks, hoarsely.

“Kind of,” Matt says, dropping the bags on his bed, sounding embarrassed. “I went to a pharmacy and got overwhelmed by the guy who was showing me the options, so I just bought you—all of the cold medicine.”

“ _All_  of it?” Foggy asks, sitting up and smiling as Matt comes over and upends a bag that genuinely looks like he just took everything that had the word  _cold_  on it. “Oh my god.  _Matt._ ”

“I also got you, uhm—a trashy romance novel and a lot of disgusting snacks that you’ll probably like and cough drops and—orange juice, probably too much orange juice,” Matt says, going back to his bed to retrieve all of it, including the gallon of orange juice that will never fit in their mini-fridge.

“That’s  _good_ ,” Foggy says, warmly, touched by all of this. “Vitamins and stuff.”

“Yeah,” Matt says, smiling. “My, uh—my dad never really knew what to do when I was sick, but he’d always get nervous and buy too much orange juice.”

“Those good Murdock instincts,” Foggy says, picking up the romance novel to read the blurb on the back, laughing too loudly. “How did you know how trashy this book is?”

“I might’ve had the guy who helped me pick the trashiest one,” Matt admits, shrugging.

“There are  _sexy pirates_ ,” Foggy says. “I feel better already. You’re the best, buddy.”

“It’s no big deal,” Matt says, but he looks pleased with himself as he gathers everything up again and puts it all on Foggy’s desk. His fingers brush over the different bottles and boxes of medication, turning back towards Foggy. “Pick your poison?”

“I’ll just take them all at once,” Foggy says, stretching out before he moves to sit on the side of his bed, picking a box at random and reading the back. “That’ll knock it right out of me.”

“It’ll knock  _something_  right out of you,” Matt says, smiling wryly. “Start with one. Do you want tea? I have tea.”

“You don’t have to, Matty,” Foggy starts, but Matt’s already industriously feeling through his desk drawers to pull out a small box of teabags, tracing the line of Foggy’s dresser to find the big coffee mug on top of it.

“Tea coming up,” he says.

Foggy grins as Matt leaves the room, turning to bury his blushing face in his pillow. He’s having a lot of feelings and some of them are about how he really wishes he could breathe through his nose and that his head didn’t feel like it was full of cotton—but most of them are about Matt caring about him so much that he’d make a pharmacy clerk pick a bodice ripper for him.

*

Foggy’s a little high on cold meds when he demands that Matt sit with him and listen while he reads the romance novel aloud between fits of coughing, but Matt dutifully sits on the bed next to him, shoulder to shoulder with their backs to the headboard. Foggy gets increasingly lower until his head’s on Matt’s shoulder and Matt’s arm finds its way around Foggy’s waist; Foggy’s a big fan of the whole situation.

Halfway into a dramatic rendition of a poorly written sex scene that takes place on the plank that one of the sexy pirates was supposed to be walking, Matt makes an uncomfortable noise and starts to move away.

Foggy’s saying, “Sorry, is this too awkward?” and turning to look at him when he sees why Matt’s uncomfortable. “ _Oh._ ”

“Oh, god,” Matt murmurs, tipping his head back like he’s imploring God to strike him down. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” Foggy says, which might be too enthusiastic, so he tones it down when he nudges Matt and says, “This is one sexy book, Murdock. If I wasn’t overly medicated and definitely dying, I would probably also be—uhm— _god_ , I know there’s a good pirate euphemism somewhere.”

“…you can probably get something out of shiver me timbers,” Matt offers, faintly and pained, and Foggy laughs.

“Shit, you’re good,” he says. “I would probably also be  _shivering me timbers_.”

That gets a reluctant laugh out of Matt, but it’s short-lived and replaced by a grave expression, like Matt’s steeling himself for something that he might not even do.

“Alright, kid,” Foggy says, turning to cough into his arm. “I know that face. Lay it on me.”

“I—want to kiss you,” Matt says, after a moment. “It’s less the pirates and more—you.”

Foggy’s not convinced that this isn’t a hallucination.

“…are you sure that you didn’t take these meds, too?” he asks.

“I’d prove it to you, but I don’t think you want me to kiss you right now,” Matt says, rolling his eyes but without much annoyance. “I just thought you should know—considering the situation.”

“You can absolutely kiss me if you’re willing to be so close to my disgusting, germ-ridden face,” Foggy says, doesn’t mean it as a challenge but not surprised that Matt takes it as one, making a face before he finds Foggy’s cheeks with both hands and leans in to kiss him softly on the mouth.

“There,” he whispers, smoothing down Foggy’s terrible bedhead before he sits back.

“…you really  _like_  me,” Foggy says, kind of awestruck.

“I really do.”

Foggy tries to lay this situation out in his brain, but everything’s clouded over in a haze of drugs and sickness and  _joy_ , so instead he throws the book across the room and says, “You don’t have to kiss me again, but you should prove your love by cuddling with me on my deathbed.”

“You’re not dying,” Matt says, but he seems happy to curl up with Foggy under his sheets, holding him close.

*

A few hours later, Foggy wakes up to Matt touching his face and makes a questioning noise at him.

“Shh,” Matt murmurs. “I want to check something.”

He cups one of Foggy’s cheeks to keep him where he wants him and leans down to press a lingering kiss to his forehead.

“Fever?” Foggy asks, smiling up at him.

“No,” Matt says, smiling back. “I think you’re gonna be just fine.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] fever when you hold me tight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16754602) by [silenceinmolasses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silenceinmolasses/pseuds/silenceinmolasses)




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